


Weekend Commute

by CKBookish



Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics), Titans (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Car Accidents, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Give this man all the blankets, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Medical Inaccuracies, Or Therapy, Police Officer Dick Grayson, Snow can be beautiful and cruel, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake is a Good Brother, sad and stressed out batdad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/pseuds/CKBookish
Summary: Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.Chapter two Bruce's perspective.
Relationships: Batfamily - Relationship, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Donna Troy, Dick Grayson & Wally West, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590904
Comments: 89
Kudos: 791





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part three of Batman Bingo 2020! Hypothermia

Weekend Commute

I've lived in a hundred places and driven a thousand roads.

I wonder if when I'm away, you still call our house

home?

* * *

The most direct route to the Manor from Bludhaven was always a nightmare to drive on a Friday night. So Dick Grayson found himself driving down a back road, the heat of his car cranked up to high as the first snow of the year fell. The sun was just visible on the horizon and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful night. Sure it would be cold on patrol but he’d be moving. The small car was toasty and the countryside was quiet. 

It was moments like this that he really understood why Clark still kept the farm. Sure Dick didn’t think _he_ could ever really move out of the city but this emptiness was nice. The vast open spaces with nothing but field after field for miles was freeing. After the week he had it was perfect. 

He vaguely remembered his mother had preferred the country. But she also loved people and places full of life. Perhaps that was the real attraction of the circus. It gave you both, a large bustling family of misfits and endless wide open spaces all at once. Dick remembered the freedom of Haly’s Circus, the endless possibilities. It felt like you could go anywhere, just pack and go. Dick wished he’d asked her why she joined Haly’s. It wasn’t often a middle class, Olympic level gymnast ran away from home and became a circus acrobat and trapeze artist. He liked to think it was because she loved his dad-- he knew she loved him. But as he got older, Dick realized nothing was ever that simple. 

Dick shook his head, clearing away emotional cobwebs that clung to him. The road turned to gravel as he made his way nearer Bristol. Driving home was always an odd experience. It was hopeful and sad at the same time. Dick was excited to spend time with Tim, and Alfred and even see Bruce. They had really been trying lately. Well, Tim had beat them around the head long enough that they finally sat down and talked. Their first make up lunch had been in a cheap diner, neutral ground. 

Dick smiled. It had been good talking, a bit awkward at first, but it had transformed into something familiar like, doing a quadruple flip after going months without practicing. 

_“How’s work?”_

_“Ummm..” Dick narrowed his eyes, feeling like he was about to walk into a trap._

_“Really, I …” Bruce sighed. “I would like to know.”_

_Dick bit his lip nervously but decided he might as well be the first mouse and grab the cheese. “It’s been ok. Busy, I got transferred partners for the third time, but he seems ok. Well, he’s nice to me still.”_

_Bruce frowned. “Why do you keep changing partners?”_

_“No one wants to work with a clean cop.” Dick smirked, stabbing into his potatoes, as if he hadn’t just admitted his coworkers were all criminals._

_“Are they… Do they still back you up?”_

_Dick realized his mistake. He had been too real too quickly. Bruce didn’t need to worry about his son getting shot in the back by another officer. Not so soon after…_

_“Oh yeah. That's like rule number one. Dirty, clean or somewhere in between, you don’t turn on a fellow cop.” Dick smiled hoping Bruce would take it at his word and let it go._

_“That’s good… Are the cases interesting?”_

_Dick released his breath._

_Soon the two were talking like they hadn’t in years. Not since Dick was young. Sure there were a few elephants in the room, but Dick used to live in the circus. He could handle an elephant or two._

A harsh ringing pulled Dick from his thoughts. Dick glanced down at his phone sitting on the passenger seat next to him. Donna’s picture lit up the screen. He grabbed the phone and swiped to answer. Snow was melting as it hit his windshield, but it was accumulating quickly over the hibernating grass. 

“Yello.” Dick put the phone to his ear, eyes still trained on the road. 

“Hey, I need your brain.”

“I’m still using it.”

“Ha Ha. But seriously, what do you know about synthetic plasma?”

Dick frowned. “Err.. you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Well, it looks like someone is using synthetic plasma to kill meta genes--”

The phone slipped from Dick’s grip as his car caught a patch of ice. Using both hands he corrected his tires. 

“Note to self ask Bruce for better tires.” Dick mumbled as he fished his phone out from between the seats. “Sorry, about that Donna. Um well if they’re using synthetic plasma then there must be something in it that natural plasma doesn’t have. Try and isolate that. If you find what makes this stuff special then you can counteract it. If you send me a sample I can look at it this weekend.”

“Thanks Dick.” Donna hung up without any pomp. 

Dick chuckled and tossed his phone down. Really Donna should have called Wally for this, but the two were fighting. Something about hot dogs. No, that wasn’t it. 

Soda. Wally had spilled soda on her camera. 

_“I am going to tie you upside down on a flagpole in the dead of winter, West!” Donna was currently taking her camera apart and wiping down every inch of the inner mechanism with a qtip._

_“It was an accident. Okay? Why do you even have your stupid camera in the kitchen. If it’s so important maybe you shouldn’t leave it laying around.”_

_“Maybe, if you slowed down_ you _wouldn’t shake your soda and have it explode over everything!” A gear bent in her hand, and she let out a howl of rage. Altogether abandoning the repair she began pelting Wally with fruit sitting in a bowl on the kitchen island._

 _Wally moved without thinking and and a banana landed hard against the back of Dick’s head._

Donna had felt terrible. But Dick had to admit he was impressed, he never considered getting a concussion from a flying banana before. It had been mild enough, just a couple of days rest and he was headache free. Dick had taken to leaving bananas in Donna’s room after that, Which everyone but Donna seemed to find hilarious. A month after the incident Wally and Donna still hadn’t made up. 

The sun had finally disappeared past the horizon. The sky was a cold navy and gray. The closer you got to Gotham the grayer it seemed to get. Dick pulled to a stop at an intersection. He always loved this part of the drive. The flat fields turned into hills and deep gullies. Which became cliffs when the land met the ocean. The estates were just visible in the distance. Dick turned slowly onto the long winding road which would take him to the Manor’s drive. He was just half an hour away. He could see small squares of light bouncing off sheets of snow. Dick frowned. He usually didn’t seen anyone drive up this way. Dimming his brights so as not to blind the other driver, Dick smiled as he caught sight of the Drake property line. He couldn’t see the house from here, just a small pond that lay on the edge of the property. Tim wouldn’t be there anyway. No, Tim was likely waiting for him by the front door of the manor. Maybe they could have a snowball fight tomorrow, if the sno---

The smashing of metal and glass was all consuming. Dick could feel his body spinning and slamming against his seat belt over and over. The car pitched and twisted. Glass was like a twister around him. The feeling of weightlessness, was normally thrilling, but now Dick could do nothing but close his eyes and wait.

* * *

The first thing Dick noticed was it was cold. The car was cold. The second thing he noticed was that he was upside down. The third, was that he couldn’t see his phone. 

Dick was in his car, but it was cold. 

Dick was in his car, it was turned off _and_ he was upside down. 

Dick was in his dead car, upside down with no phone. 

Which Dick did not understand at all. 

“Okay. seat-belt.” Dick fumbled with numb fingers to free himself. He forgot to brace for the drop and smashed into the roof of his car. He lay on his back for a moment staring up at the wheel. His body was shivering involuntary. The car was _really_ cold. He must have been hanging upside for a while, because he distinctly remembered sweating earlier.

Dick wondered vaguely if he had a concussion. He must have one, because none of this was making any since. He should do... something, but he couldn’t remember what. He should call Bruce! No that wouldn’t work, because he lost his phone. Snow was blowing into the car through the broken windshield. 

“That’s not good.” 

The snow would make him colder. Dick sat up suddenly. _The other car!_ _Where was the other car?_ Dick rolled over the broken glass littering the roof and crawled his way free from the wreckage. Wet snow slipped up under his collar. His whole body was shaking. Dick stumbled twice before he could stand, his legs were itching. 

Dick brushed himself off and looked around. He was in a small gully twenty feet down from the road. His car was trashed. The side panes were crushed in on the driver side. The whole thing looked as if Superman had used it as a frisbee. Great, he had almost finished paying this one off. Dick looked around for signs of the other driver, and found none. 

Panic built in his chest. What if they were trapped somewhere, hurt, bleeding out? He clumsily climbed the hill, snow burning his bare hands. He reached the top and still saw no sign of the other vehicle. Dick stood uncomprehending for a minute. Then the truth sunk in. If he wasn’t so cold he would be mad. Shoving his hands in his pockets he began the long walk. 

Dick never realized how inconvenient it was to live so far from everyone. Growing up, he rarely walked outside the manor grounds unless if was with Bruce or Alfred. So he never really appreciated how long it took to get home. Dick’s eyes watered and nose ran as snow whipped around his face and the wind tugged at his hair. He had been walking for twenty minutes before he realized that he didn’t have his coat. 

Dick stopped. Why had he left his coat? He needed that. He looked down at his snow soaked pants and sighed. He was already halfway to the driveway, his legs were so numb he couldn’t feel them. In another thirty minutes he would be inside. 

He kept going. 

By the time he reached the Manor gate he had stopped shivering. Which he knew wasn’t good. He dragged his feet over to the keypad. They felt oddly heavy, like he had weights tied to them. Pulling his hand from his pocket he went to type in the code. It took a moment to uncurl his fingers. He couldn’t feel the buttons as he pushed them. _Did I push the 8 already?_ On the fourth try the gate swung open. Which was lucky because it would lock until Bruce put in the override if you messed up five times. 

The walk up the drive was beautiful, the grounds looked pristine with blankets of snow spread out over it. Dick could see his old tire swing from the path. The Manor looked like a frosted gingerbread house.

He was so close. He could see the light from the study. He wondered vaguely what Bruce was working on, if it was a case or something from Wayne Enterprises. Dick had made to twenty feet away from the door, before Bruce threw it open. 

“Dick? You’re bleeding.” Bruce was down the steps and pulling Dick forward before he could even wonder what Bruce was talking about. 

Dick was to focused on the fact that Bruce didn’t have his shoes on. It was snowing and Bruce was walking on it barefoot. “You forgot your shoes, B.”

If Bruce thought this an odd remark he didn’t say. Instead he was ushering Dick over the threshold and shouting for Alfred. 

“Mast-- Oh my.” Alfred’s ire vanished instantly the moment he spotted Dick. “Master Tim, would you be so kind as to bring Master Dick some warm clothes.” The foyer was thrown into chaos as Tim thundered up the steps, and Bruce worked to yank his sopping wet clothes from him. Dick’s skin was an angry red, and he had lines of purple across his chest and hips. Bruce was poking and prodding him all over, but Dick hardly felt it. 

Dick found himself sitting in the den piled in hot, fresh from the dryer blankets. Tim was kindling a fire while casting him nervous glances at Dick. 

“Where did B go?” Dick didn’t remember him leaving the room.

“To get the med-kit.” Tim plopped down and crawled under the blankets with Dick. Tim felt like the sun. 

“Oh.” Dick could remember Bruce being upset about him bleeding now. “I don’t feel anything but cold.”

Tim pulled closer. “Well you must have hit your head, because half your hair is brown and you have dried blood all down your neck _and_ it was all over your shirt.”

“Oh. I didn’t notice.”

Bruce was suddenly in front of him with a warm wash cloth wiping the blood from his neck and out of his ear. Gently he probed his son’s head for the injury. His lips became more pursed the longer he couldn’t find it. Until--

Dick pulled away sharply. 

“Sorry. You’re going to need stitches.” Bruce sat back. “It’s stopped bleeding so we’ll wait until your warmed up and clean.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Tim’s eyes raked over him for further harm. Bruce had already checked for broken ribs, but Tim didn’t want to rule out something internal. 

“Nah, just numb.” Dick said lamely. He hadn’t noticed his bleeding though so really, Tim should have known better than to ask. “Bruce?”

“Yeah, Chum?”

“I wretched my car.”

“I did wonder.” Bruce nudged Dick lightly as his eyes drooped. “Ice?”

“No. Well maybe, that or the guy was drunk.”

“What?” Tim leaned away to look up at him. Dick frowned at the loss of heat. The kid was a little torch. “Someone hit you?”

“Yeah. I looked for them but I couldn’t find them.” Dick yawned. “Must have driven off. Hope they’re okay.”

“Dick, you're an idiot.”

Bruce’s expression was stony. “Where was this?”

Alfred walked in with a tray of hot tea.

“Near the pond at Tim’s, I think.”

“That's four miles away, Dick.” Tim’s eyes were wide as saucers.

Alfred handed him the tea. 

“Thanks Alf. Yeah, I was a bit slow walking ‘cus the snow.”

“What time was this? Do you remember?” Bruce pulled the blankets on Dick’s shoulders up higher. 

“I don’t know maybe six twenty? I left work at five and the back way takes two hours. So yeah, six twenty.”

“Dick you got here at almost nine.” Tim scooted closer to Dick.

“What? No… I... It took me, maybe an hour to walk here.”

It wasn’t often that Dick found himself completely lost, but looking at Tim and Bruce it was absolutely clear, Dick had missed something. Which was frustrating, because he was a detective. So not understanding the horrified looks he was getting was understandably unsettling. 

“Master Bruce, I hate to interrupt but I have phoned the police and an officer will come to take Master Dick’s statement in the morning and Doctor Thompkins is on her way, so we really should get Master Dick cleaned up, now that he is not in danger of freezing to death.”

“Alf, do I have to? I’m still cold.” While Dick’s hands were warmed by the tea cup the rest of his body was still prickling and icy. 

“You are no longer in danger of shock from a warm shower, so I would prefer you get cleaned up. Then we can see if you have any other hidden injuries.”

“But I just sat down.” Dick didn’t care if he was pouting. He was tired and his head was starting to hurt and his chest _and_ his hips. 

“Dick we’ve been sitting here for over an hour.” Tim looked up at him nervously.

“Oh…” 

So Dick found himself sitting in a warm--not hot-- bath, as Bruce pulled broken glass from his hair. Dick had just settled in to his bed, now armed with a heated blanket when Leslie arrived. 

“Moderate Hypothermia, but you should be okay. You really are lucky, you weren’t out any longer. Honestly, you all are making my hair gray. Just rest and stay warm.” Leslie tied off a third stitch. 

Dick was glad she hadn’t needed to shave his head, but he almost wished for the numbness to comeback. His head was pounding. 

“Your disorientation is probably more from the cold then a concussion. You got cut up pretty good by glass, but I don’t think you hit your head in the crash.”

“I fell on it.”

“You fell… on your head?” Leslie frowned. “When?”

“When I was trying to get out. I forgot I was upside down.” Dick noticed Tim shifting uncomfortably in the armchair he had pulled up next to Dick’s bed. 

“Well, you might have a mild one from that. But I am more worried about whiplash. Did you black out at all?"

“Yes.” Bruce was standing with his arms crossed at the foot of Dick’s bed.

“He lost almost two hours.” Tim pulled his feet up underneath him. Dick wanted to laugh, Tim looked like a bird, perched on the seat.

“Well, bring him in for some scans tomorrow. For tonight wake him up every hour, just to be safe, but what you need most is rest, so _no_ going out for a week at least. I would prefer three, but I’m a realist.” Leslie muttered the last bit more to herself than to them.

Bruce and Tim stayed in with him, faithfully waking him once an hour. By the time the sun rose Dick was sick of them. 

“Dick?” Tim pulled his eyelid up. “You in a coma yet?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Dick sat up gritting his teeth as his whole body protested his movements. It took him half an hour to get down to the kitchen. Bruce was on the phone speaking animatedly. Dick wanted him to lower his voice. 

Alfred pushed a bowl of cereal over to him. Dick’s heart almost stopped. 

“Alf?”

“Yes, Master Dick?”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Alfred raised one eyebrow as he moved to wipe down a wet plate.

“You… I… Thanks, Alf.” If this is what it took to get to eat cereal at the Manor maybe Dick would get hit by cars more often.

Bruce heaved a sigh and slumped down next to Dick. “Well, it looks like the police have the man who hit you.”

“What? How?” Dick hadn’t even given a statement yet.

“He turned himself in. Apparently, he thought you were dead and panicked.”

“Yicks. Were they injured?”

“Split lip.”

“Drunk?”

“No, just ice.”

“The police will still need a statement. We’ll go into the station after your appointment, since we’ll be in town anyway”

Dick’s cereal suddenly seemed unappetizing. He already wanted to crawl back into bed.

Tim put two Tylenol down next to him. Dick smiled and tossed them into his mouth. 

“How are you feeling?” Tim draped a quilt over his shoulders. 

Dick felt bad. This was supposed to be a fun weekend. Now Tim was worried, and Dick’s head hurt too much to figure out how to make it better.

“My hands are cold.” Dick admitted after a moment.

Bruce reached over and pulled his hands out from under the quilt. Then turned Dick’s chair to face him and placed both of Dick’s hands under his armpits. Tim’s eyebrow twitched and lips curved up. 

Bruce sat staring down his eldest as if daring him to complain. Dick burst out laughing. 

_“Bruuucce. We really got to get a space heater down here.” Dick was sitting on the Batcomputer’s desk, feet tapping the arm of Bruce’s chair._

_“Go get a coat.”_

_“My bodies not cold, B. My hands are. See?” Dick wiggled his fingers in front of his guardian’s nose._

_Bruce pulled Dick off the desk into his lap trapping both of Dick’s hands firmly beneath his arms._

_“Bruce! Eww. That is disgusting. Stop.” Dick laughed as he fought to pull his hands free._

_“Beggars can’t be choosers, Dick.” Bruce laughed as the boy gave up and slumped against his chest._

The three vigilantes sat there talking quietly for a long time. Low voices in the quiet of the morning. Out the window Dick could see a family of birds clustered together on a branch. 

Dick decided it was nice, even if he felt like he had gone ten rounds with Killer Croc. It was nice to have a mundane morning. Going to the Doctor for something not related to the mask and just spending time listening to Tim talk about school. He wondered if he could convince Bruce to stay in again tonight. Finally Bruce released Dick’s hands when Alfred called them to go. Dick had to admit were much warmer now.


	2. Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weekend Commute from Bruce's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sElkieNight60 asked about Bruce's perspective and this sort of happened.... Thank for all the comments and kudos! They mean a ton!!!

Job was a stronger man than I

You have but taken one and I find I am struggling to survive. 

* * *

Bruce wanted to burn the Manor down. Well, he wanted to burn the financial reports on his desk anyway. Bruce sometimes hated that he reviewed every year-end report. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his finance department. It was that he didn’t trust _anyone_ . He trusted very few, and none of them he could hire to check Wayne Enterprise’s spending. Tim might be able to do it. He would probably be _happy_ to do it. But somehow, asking Tim to take on yet another task seemed _irresponsible_. 

Tim was doing too much lately. Bruce noticed dark bags developing under the boy’s eyes. Bruce just didn’t know _how_ to make him slow down. Jack and Janet Drake were once again out of the country, so Tim was left to his own devices. Something that seemed to happen far too often for Bruce’s liking. Yet, him and Alfred had been unable to get the boy to stay with them more than the odd night here and there. Tim was a conundrum, that left both Batman and Alfred nonplussed. Dick however, seemed to always know what to do.

_“B, I think I’m gonna come over this weekend. You don’t mind if Tim stays over right? It just makes it easier, because I want to take him to the skate park. And if he is already over I don’t have to pick him up.” Dick was talking a mile a minute as he pulled his helmet on._

_“Dick, I can just walk over to the Manor.”_

_“No way, Timmers! It’s cold, and I want to stay up late watching movies!” Dick was already climbing onto his bike. “So, see you next Friday!”_

_Bruce was unable to even grunt before the tires were squealing out of the cave._

The whole weekend had been so smoothly arranged. Claiming it was easier to have Tim stay over for Dick’s sake allowed Alfred to make sure he was eating real food. It enabled Bruce to make sure he actually _went_ to bed after patrol. Dick had definitely known what he was doing. 

Bruce glanced at the clock and started. It was just after nine. _Have I been here that long?_ Bruce stood and stretched, his back and shoulders popping. The door of his office was ajar and for the first time in hours he listened to what was going on the other side. He could hear Tim talking down the hall in the kitchen. Tim was explaining a camera aperture adjustment he made to get a particular shot of the skyline last week. The photo had turned out nicely. Alfred was ordering a frame for it. Bruce waited for Dick’s response. 

It didn’t come. 

Instead Alfred politely asked a question. Bruce frowned, Dick hadn’t come to say hello to him either. Dick always popped in even if just for a moment. 

Bruce looked at the clock again. _Where is he?_ The drive didn’t take more than two hours. Bruce knew if Dick _really_ wanted he could make it in one. So where was he? Bruce pulled his phone out. He had no missed messages. No text to explain that he was staying late at work. Nothing to say that he was caught in traffic. No explanation. 

Had it been anyone else Bruce would have chalked it up to reckless and rude behavior. But Dick wouldn’t do that. Not anymore. 

Bruce hit call.

“Hey, you’ve reached Dick Grayson, I can’t answer right now, because I am probably at work, work or work. So leave a message.”

Bruce hung up. Maybe Dick had texted Tim. It was as he made his way to the door that Bruce saw it. 

Dick was in the snow walking slowly up the drive. Bruce sighed. So he was here, just out getting... Bruce frowned. He didn’t have his coat on. Alfred surely would have made him put it on to go outside in this weather. Bruce pulled the curtain back further to get a better view of the drive. Dick’s car wasn’t out front. Bruce refocused on his son. He was stumbling. Bruce felt ice in his veins, that had nothing to do with the snow building up outside. 

Bruce was running. Bare feet smacking the floor hard as he went. The stealthy Batman thundered through his home. If there was anything Bruce knew about Dick Grayson, it was that the man didn’t stumble. Dick pranced, glided, or bounced his way across a room. He cartwheeled, flipped or sprang, and even when he was made to walk, it was never so graceless. Not unless he was hurt. 

Bruce threw open the door, it swung hard and hit the wall. Bruce didn’t care. Let Alfred scold him latter. The wind and cold hit Bruce in full force as he stood in the doorway of the Manor.

 _Jason was a mess. His hair was plastered to his forehead. Black strands turned a ruddy brown. Ash clung to him. He looked like a statue of a hero from some greek tragedy. He had bruises on his face, the skin was purple and blue. His lips were blue_ . _Bruce couldn’t breathe_. 

Bruce blinked, it was Dick. Dick was the mess. It was _his_ hair that was coated in brown flaky bits of dry blood. It was _snow_ clung to him making him appear like a marble statue. It was _his_ lips that were blue.

“Dick! You’re bleeding.” Bruce’s tongue felt heavy. The blood was drying down his neck and covering the front half of his shirt. 

Panic formed in Bruce’s chest. 

_“Jay?” The blood was sticky. It made a sickening sound as Bruce turned him over, pulling him away from the rubble. “Jay? Please wake up. I need you to wake up.”_

_His mask was burnt at the edges. Blood had dripped into his ear. Bruce tried to wipe it out with his glove. Instead it just smeared more._

“You forgot your shoes, B.” Dick was gripping his arm.

It was Dick in front of him. Dick was the one bleeding. Dick was taking, alive. _Move Bruce, get it together. Panic means they die. Get him inside, get him warm. Find the bled._ Bruce was tugging Dick into the Hall. 

“ALFRED!” Bruce couldn’t hide his fear, somehow it always seemed to sound like anger. “Alfred! Hall! now!” Bruce was unbuttoning Dick’s police uniform. 

_Who on Earth designed this? It’s impossible to get off quickly._

“Mast-- Oh my.” Bruce could feel Alfred approaching behind him. 

But he didn’t turn. Bruce pulled Dick’s boots off and socks. He checked each toe and finger. No frost bite. 

“Master Tim, would you be so kind as to bring Master Dick some warm clothes.”

Tim was running past. Bruce didn’t look, Robin would follow orders. 

Alfred joined Bruce pulling way Dick’s wet clothing. Dick’s body was red from cold, but that wasn’t what made Bruce’s stomach turn. Purple stripes lined Dick’s chest and hips, a seat belt. _Ribs, concussion, check everything._ Bruce poked and prodded looking for any signs of further damage, for any break, or cut. Bruce knew that Dick’s car wasn’t the greatest for safety ratings, but it at least had a metal frame. It wasn’t some new trashy mix of aluminum. Dick was staring at him, with glassy eyes.

_Jason’s eyes were half open. Bruce’s hands shook as he pulled the mask away._

“I’ll put some quilts in the dryer, to help warm him.”

Right, he was cold. Bruce pulled him forward. He needed to be away from the door It was always cold in the Hall. 

“Come on, Chum. Up.” 

Tim’s feet were pounding on the steps. He had a pile of sweaters and fuzzy socks. Tim followed Bruce as he tried to help Dick into the study. Dick leaned into him. Bruce gave up his pretense of unconcern and picked him up. 

Dick said nothing. No protest. No, comment about hurting his back, or being too old to carry. 

“Tim, help me with his arms.” Bruce said as he placed Dick down next to the empty fireplace. Bruce and Tim worked together pulling the dry clothing on him. Dick still seemed not to notice. His skin was cold. 

Jason had still been warm when Bruce found him. Though that could have been more from the explosion then his core temperature. Bruce bit his tongue. _Focus._

“Dick, I’m going to get a kit. I’ll be right back, okay?” Bruce didn’t wait for a response. He doubted Dick was listening anyway. He dashed from the room. He could hear Tim, putting together wood for a fire. 

Bruce stood in the bathroom forcing his breath into an even pattern. _He is okay, it’s not major. Pull it together._ Bruce shook his hands out and pulled the first-aid kit out from under the sink. He grabbed a washcloth and wet it with warm water. He looked down and saw blood on his fingers. Bruce swallowed his bile and ran back to the study.

Tim was huddled under a pile of quilts with Dick when he came back. Alfred it seems had indeed gotten quilts from the dryer. Where he was now though… Bruce sat in front of the two and set about cleaning blood from Dick’s face and neck. Bruce glanced at Tim. Tim looked worried. 

“Dick? How you feeling?” 

Bruce got no reply. 

“He is pretty out of it. Didn’t remember when you left. I don’t think he noticed Alfred either.”

Bruce nodded and continued cleaning. He needed to find where he was bleeding from. Dick flinched when Bruce prodded a larger cut covered by his hair. Dick was covered in small cuts and scrapes but this one was deep, glass still embedded in it. 

“Sorry. You’re going to need stitches.” Bruce noticed Dick eyes clearing momentarily. “It’s stopped bleeding so we’ll wait until your warmed up and clean.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Tim it seems noticed his return to lucidity as well.

“Nah, just numb.” 

Bruce frowned, wondering if it would be safe to get one of the heated blankets. He needed to call Leslie. Perhaps that was where Alfred was. Bruce turned to shout for the man, when Dick spoke again.

“Bruce?”

“Yeah, Chum?” Bruce was once again facing his oldest. 

“I wretched my car.” Dicks eyes were blinking slowly.

Bruce tapped him lightly. _Don’t sleep. You can’t sleep yet. Keep him talking._ “I did wonder. Ice?”

“No. Well maybe, that or the guy was drunk.”

Bruce felt his fist close. Bruce wondered if he could call Jim for a car accident. It was definitely below the man’s pay grade, but Dick was seeing Barbara-- at least Bruce thought they were. Or perhaps Batman could… No that would look odd. Batman didn’t deal with traffic accidents. 

“What? Someone hit you?” Bruce glanced at Tim. He could practically see the gears turning. He would have to make sure Tim didn’t do too much damage to who ever hit Dick. 

“Yeah. I looked for them but I couldn’t find them...Must have driven off. Hope they’re okay.”

“Dick, you're an idiot.”

Bruce couldn’t agree with Tim more. “Where was this?” 

Dick must have been in the cold for a while to be so bad off, but also must have been near enough to walk. Alfred entered with a tray of tea. _Good, that’s smart_. 

“Near the pond at Tim’s, I think.”

“That's four miles away, Dick.” Tim looked horrified.

And Bruce felt much the same, it still was closer than he’d expected. Dick looked as if he had been out for hours. He could do four miles, even injured as he was, relatively quickly. 

Dick clung to the tea as if it were a life line. 

“Thanks Alf. Yeah, I was a bit slow walking ‘cus the snow.”

Bruce bit his lip. Snow might slow him down but not enough to cause this much damage. he had to have been out longer than an hour. The realization hit him hard. Dick _had_ been in his car for much longer. Bruce felt rage build up inside him like a feral animal let off the leash. Dick had been unconscious in his car. Had been left for dead on the side of the road, in a blizzard. Bruce was going to destroy-- No, breathe. Anger will not fix it. Bruce exhaled slowly. He needed facts, get the evidence. Just like a case. He needed to know how long his son was out there. 

“What time was this? Do you remember?” Bruce reached over and adjust the blankets, Dick had started shivering again. 

“I don’t know maybe six twenty? I left work at five and the back way takes two hours. So yeah, six twenty.”

Bruce wanted to hit something, preferably _whoever_ hit him and drove off. 

“Dick you got here at almost nine.” 

“What? No… I... It took me, maybe an hour to walk here.”

Bruce noticed Tim’s look of fear. But he didn’t know how to reassure the boy. It was likely a combination of hypothermia and a concussion, making Dick so confused. Bruce didn’t know how to make either of them feel better. That was what Dick was good at. Bruce never could figure out how to give that to Tim. 

Dick had been easy to comfort-- at first anyway. He just would want a hug and would skip away. Jason had-- _No. Don’t go there._

“Master Bruce, I hate to interrupt but I have phoned the police and an officer will come to take Master Dick’s statement in the morning and Doctor Thompkins is on her way, so we really should get Master Dick cleaned up, now that he is not in danger of freezing to death.”

Bruce wondered if Alfred could read minds sometimes, he always seemed to know when to pull Bruce from his thoughts. 

“Alf, do I have to? I’m still cold.” 

Bruce smiled, Dick sounded all of eight at the moment. 

“You are no longer in danger of shock from a warm shower, so I would prefer you get cleaned up. Then we can see if you have any other hidden injuries.”

“But I just sat down.” 

Bruce’s smile slipped away. So he was still losing time. 

“Dick we’ve been sitting here for over an hour.” Tim looked up at him nervously.

“Oh…” 

Bruce found himself wanting to cry. He didn’t. Instead he pulled Dick gently to his feet and up the stairs. 

Bruce found himself perched on the edge of the tub, after hearing Dick fall over several times. Bruce sat pulling bits of glass out of his hair. The water turned pink, Bruce focused on the task. Find glass. Pull it out. Throw it in the Trash. Wash hair. Dry off. Get him dressed. Don’t think. Just move. Just move. Don’t think. Don’t think. 

_Bruce couldn’t put him down. Even when he got on the Batplane, he couldn’t put him down. Jason seemed so small. He was small. Fithteen was too small. Why was it so easy to carry him. He should be heavier than this. Bruce vaguely wondered how much a soul weighed. Jason’s must have been the heaviest part of him, because now he was too light. Bruce put the plane on autopilot and sank down to the floor. Alfred found him still sitting holding Jason hours later. Bruce didn’t notice him until he felt Alfred pull Jason away._

“Moderate Hypothermia, but you should be okay. You really are lucky, you weren’t out any longer. Honestly, you all are making my hair gray. Just rest and stay warm.” Leslie’s voice broke through Bruce's memory. 

Dick was still pale, but looked more with it. _Good_. Alfred handed Bruce a cup of coffee. It smelt like almonds, Bruce frowned. He must look bad if Alfred was sneaking him alcohol. 

“Your disorientation is probably more from the cold then a concussion. You got cut up pretty good by glass, but I don’t think you hit your head in the crash.”

“I fell on it.”

Bruce set the coffee down on the dresser and stepped closer. So Dick had rolled the car. 

“You fell… on your head? When?” Bruce was mapping the road in his mind, near the pond were several drop offs. Bruce hoped he hadn’t rolled down one. 

“When I was trying to get out. I forgot I was upside down.”

Bruce pinched his nose. How this kid made it to twenty one was beyond him. 

“Well, you might have a mild one from that. But I am more worried about whiplash. Did you black out at all.”

“Yes.” Bruce crossed his arms and pinched the fabric of his turtleneck, Alfred hated when he stretched the fabric, but it was that or keep biting his lip. 

“He lost almost two hours.” Tim said quietly.

“Well, bring him in for some scans tomorrow. For tonight wake him up every hour, just to be safe, but what you need most is rest, so _no_ going out for a week at least. I would prefer three, but I’m a realist.” 

Bruce nodded as she left and made his way over to the bed. Bruce would be getting no sleep tonight. But that was fine. It was for the best. He didn’t want to dream anyway. Dick drifted off to sleep and Tim slipped out saying something about checking traffic cams . 

Bruce laid back on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He lay still and just listened to Dick breathe. 

After two hours and waking Dick twice, Tim reappeared and stated it was his turn. 

He set alarms to wake himself. 

“Just in case, Bruce.”

After another two hours, Bruce gave up trying to argue with him. Tim it seemed was just as determined as Bruce to keep Dick company. 

So Bruce drove out to find the car and to investigate the crime scene. 

Snow had fallen covering Dick’s tracks to the Manor, and the road had no tire marks. Instead a blank canvas lay before him. 

Bruce drove slowly as he neared the Drake property. He could see the pond now, but not Dick’s car. So it had rolled into a ditch after all. Bruce sighed and pulled over. He shoved his gloved hands into his pockets and began looking for the car on foot. Bruce found it wedged in a small gully. Bruce slide down the hill to the car. Snow blew around him. Bruce could almost taste ash. 

Glass was everywhere, there was a frozen puddle of blood on the roof of the car just under--over?-- the driver’s seat. Bruce gagged and stepped back. He closed his eyes and focused on the cold. _Dick is fine. He’s at home in bed. This isn’t some blown up warehouse and there is no dead son to search for._

 _But there could have been._ A voice high and cold whispered in Bruce’s mind. 

Bruce kicked the car’s already dented side panel. But that wasn’t enough. He wanted to hit something-- someone-- until his fingers split and bleed. He wanted to hunt down his son’s would be killer and show him how dangerous it was to piss of the Batman. 

Bruce’s phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Kicking the car again, Bruce pulled the device from his pocket and ripped off a glove with his teeth. 

Wallace West. 

Bruce almost threw his phone. Instead he exhaled letting out a hiss and answered.

“What?”

“Hey, Dick was supposed to send me some scans of a crime scene, but he’s not answering and he said he was home for the weekend, so… Wait. You’re not Alfred.”

“No. I am not.” Bruce could hear Wally drop something.

“Umm… Mr. Wayne, I didn’t realize this was your phone. Dick said to call it if I couldn’t get to him. I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Wallace. Dick is not available for the weekend. I will ask him about the scans in the morning. Will that do?”

“Err… Yeah. Thanks. Wait. Is he okay?” 

“He will be fine. Car accident. He has a bit of a concussion or whiplash.”

Wally swore. “He had a concussion a month ago. It was really minor, but that’s pretty close together.”

Bruce pinched his nose. “Thank you. I will inform the doctor. Good night.” 

Bruce hung up before Wally could reply. He knew he shouldn’t have been so short with Dick’s friend, but Bruce couldn’t bring himself to put on a front. He didn’t want to pretend he was fine. Maybe that was why he was here. Staring down the twisted metal and shattered glass. The night felt so different than… Jason. But it seemed so similar. The white of the snow was just like ash. While it was cold, it was cold enough to feel like a burn. He had the same sick feeling in his gut. Bruce always seemed to have that though. Bruce realized his hand was still ungloved. He stuck it under his arm. 

Bruce looked back into the car. Even the twisted metal looked almost like the broken concrete. Bruce glanced at the time. He had been here for too long. He needed to go back and check on Dick. 

He bent down and looked inside the car again. He may as well grab some of Dick’s things while he was here. He scrunched his nose up looking into vehicle. Bruce would have to tell him to clean his car more often. It was disgusting. 

He called Dick’s phone. The ring was loud in the silent snow covered hills. Brushing aside snow he pulled it out from between McDonald's and Batburger bags. 

He briefly considered trying to get in the trunk for Dick’s bag, but decided not to try and lift the car. Dick had enough at the Manor, and he could borrow something of his if he really needed. 

He drove slowly back to the manor. His mind refused to stop spinning. 

_“Bruce. Seriously, I can smell your hair burning over there.” Jason was lounging on the love seat in Bruce’s office a book held to his nose._

_“Ha ha.” Bruce slumped into his chair. The case was killing him. Well, it was killing him that he couldn’t figure it out. Some days Bruce hated riddles._

_“You need to stop thinking about it. It will come to you when you stop thinking.”_

_“Well, how do you suggest I do that?”_

_Jason lifted his book up in answer._

_Bruce snorted. “Alright, I’ll bite. What are you reading?”_

_“Frost.”_

_Bruce hummed._

_“You want to hear it?”_

Fire and Ice. Bruce could still hear Jason reading it aloud. Bruce had to agree with Frost. His world had ended once with fire, and ice could have taken it from him again just as easily.

**Author's Note:**

> So, is my Dad the only one who does this? The number of times he has offered me his armpits... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
